


Followed

by DarkMoonMaiden



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protectiveness, Slow Build, Stalking, Wade's a bit of a dork but he's a sweet dork, who's willing to kill for peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-28 02:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2715923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/pseuds/DarkMoonMaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a stranger following him and his secret identity on the line, Peter turns to the Avengers for help. When assigned a bodyguard, there's only one person available--Wade Wilson. </p>
<p>Peter's not sure if this is the best or the worst situation he could ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very overdue request from the lovely samettikettu.  
> I'm so sorry for making you wait so long omg but life got the best of me ;A; and I know that this is only the first part but the next part is well under way!

The first time Peter told Gwen, her first reaction had been to laugh loudly.

“Thank you for your support, Gwen,” he said sourly, scowling at the bookshelves. “Your love is greatly appreciated.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she snickered, trying and failing to hide her amusement. “That just took me off guard. I wasn’t expecting _you_ to, uh, say that.” Gwen bit her lip to hide another giggle.

Peter knew he couldn’t blame her for her initial reaction. At first, it’d been sort of funny to him, too, before the reality of the situation set in. Spider-man had a stalker--he would’ve never imagined those words grouped together. But that was certainly what was happening.

“This is serious,” he huffed, selecting a book from the shelf and idly flipping through it.

“No, I know,” Gwen assured him, picking up a copy of the same book. “I’m taking you seriously. One hundred percent seriously.”

“Gwen, what if whoever’s following me finds out about my... _moonlighting_? Y’know, my other life?”

The humor that had been slowly dissipating from Gwen’s face was now completely gone. She opened her mouth to respond, but had to wait as a customer meandered past them, waiting until they were out of earshot. “Do you think they know yet?” she whispered.

“I have no clue,” Peter responded, and that was the agonizing truth. He tossed the book he was holding into the pile that was accumulating in his bag. “I don’t know what they know, how much they’ve seen, _anything._ I’ve been so scared that whoever it is will find out about me that I’ve only gone out once this week, and changed at Stark Tower. My senses are going off, like, every half hour, except I can’t see what’s making them go crazy.”

Gwen’s expression grew more and more concerned. “Has anything bad happened yet?” she pressed. “Like, violent?”

“No, nothing violent,” Peter said. “I think some things of mine have gone missing? It’s hard to tell, I’m such a messy person that I don’t know if I misplaced it or it was taken. Like, things from my gym locker, and my backpack. Nothing from my place. A few notes left for me. The only huge thing is that I had flowers addressed to me sent to my Chem class.”

That had been the moment when everything had taken a turn for Peter--seeing the TA come towards him with a bouquet of flowers, smiling dreamily and telling him that he was a lucky guy to have such a nice girlfriend. Peter had tried to say that these couldn’t have been for him, but sure enough, there had been his name, written in loopy letters (which were becoming uncomfortably familiar) on a small card amidst the flowers.

He’d frozen, and shakily asked the TA who had give these to her.

“Dunno,” she had shrugged. “They were there when I got here this morning.”

Peter had quickly excused himself after that, feigning sickness, and had thrown the flowers away.

“That’s creepy,” Gwen shuddered, goosebumps rising on her arms. “Have you, uh, talked to _anyone_ about this?” _Have you talked to the Avengers?_ was the obvious underlying question.

“Oh, c’mon, Gwen,” Peter snorted, shaking his head. “They’d laugh me out of the tower.”

“No, think about it,” she insisted. “Mr. Stark would totally help you--he has to protect his investments.”

“Hardy har har.”

“I thought that was actually quite clever, considering I just made it up on the spot.”

“ _Gwen._ ”

“You should go talk to them, though. They’ve probably dealt with things like this before. The Aven-- _they_ are constantly in the public eye. I’m eighty percent sure they’ve had some people follow a member around, at one point or another.”

Peter joined the line at the checkout counter. “I’m already their weakest link, Gwen,” he said. “I don’t need more of a reason for Steve or Fury to put me on the back burner.”

“If they thought you were the weakest link, they wouldn’t have _hired_ you.”

Peter let out a slightly hysterical laugh, earning him a few strange looks from people around him. “Gwen. I had to beg them to let me join.”

Gwen hip checked him. “Only Steve,” she corrected. “The big boss was totally confident in you, and that’s the only one who matters.”

Peter opened his mouth to argue that Director Fury actually didn’t have much control over the Avengers (because honestly, when had the team as a whole done exactly what SHIELD wanted?) but Gwen’s pouted lip and big eyes stopped him.

Peter sighed in resignation. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow,” he relented, setting his books down at the checkout counter.

“Thank you, Peter,” she sang behind him.

When they’d finished checking out, Gwen’s expression was back to being tense and uncertain. She waited until they were walking out of the bookstore before saying, “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Chicago this weekend.”

“No, you should definitely go,” Peter said quickly. “There’s no real point in staying and being miserable with me, y’know?”

“I think you kind of need me here more, though. I don’t want you dealing with this by yourself.”

“I’ll have the Avengers, I’ll be fine.”

She gave him a doubtful look. “That sounds a lot like you trying to remove me from the situation,” she said in a warning tone. “Are you playing the hero again, Peter Parker?”

“That’s _totally_ not what I’m trying to do. I just think that it wouldn’t be fair to make you cancel your trip so last minute.”

“Whatever you say,” she said sarcastically, and Peter elbowed her in the side. “I know that I’m not some super-powered adrenaline junkie, but I _am_ here for you, Peter. I promise I won’t hesitate to break someone’s knee with a baseball bat.” Peter snickered at the mental image, even though he knew that the girl was completely serious.

Gwen leaned in and kissed Peter on the cheek, leaving a light smudge of lipstick. “I have to go. I want you to tell me everything that happens, okay? Don’t leave _anything_ out. I’ll text you before my plane leaves, and when I land.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he joked weakly.

He left when Gwen did, heading towards his next class as she hailed down a taxi to take her back to her apartment.

***

Clint choked on his coffee when Peter bluntly said his problem.

Steve shot the laughing archer a disapproving look. “This is serious, Clint,” he scolded him.

“It’s fine,” Peter huffed, crossing his arms. “I was expecting him to laugh.”

“This is the most hilarious thing I’ve heard all week,” Clint gasped out once he was done coughing, wiping tears from his eyes. “How did you manage to get a stalker?

“Like how anyone else gets a stalker,” Peter said, throwing up his hands. “I’m not sure how you expect me to respond, here. It’s not like I put up an ad for one on Craigslist.”

“Be nice, the both of you,” Steve admonished him, attempting to rein in the conversation.

“I _am_ being nice,” Peter assured him aggressively. “If I wasn’t, he’d be webbed to the ceiling.”

“Maybe one of the paparazzi got a bit overeager— _wait._ ” Clint leaned forward, eyes widening. Peter could practically see the puzzle pieces clicking into place. “ _You have a secret identity._ ”

“Welcome to the party, Clint,” Peter snarked loudly. “I’m glad you could join the rest of us.”

Clint gave him a pout, but didn’t seem horribly put off by Peter’s sarcasm. Living with Tony and Natasha had practically immunized him from feeling offense towards sharp comments. “Dude, what are you going to do?”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally counting back from ten. “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “I’m asking _you_ what I need to do.”

“You did the right thing, Peter,” Steve assured him, using the strong, leader-like voice he was so well known for. “SHIELD and the Avengers will definitely help you. We’ve had to deal with this before.”

“Really?” Peter asked, leaning forward slightly. “Who?”

“Yeah, Cap,” Clint said, grinning widely. “Who?”

“Behave, Clint,” Steve said stiffly. “You’re getting off topic, and that was a private situation.” Clint didn’t look the tiniest bit remorseful, but held his tongue as the other two heroes talked.

“When did this start, Peter?” Steve asked, giving the younger man an encouraging smile.

Peter relayed to them everything that he’d told Gwen, and more. He admitted to himself that he’d omitted a few things when speaking to his friend--she was his number one confidant, but he didn't want to weigh her down right before she left for her trip. Only a few things, like how he'd gotten detailed, romantic letters sent to him and chocolates left at his door.

Steve had to shoo Clint away after the archer couldn’t stop interrupting Peter, and he went with minimal fuss, allowing the teenager to finish his tale of woe.

“So, there you have it,” Peter said sourly. “Now, help me make everything better.”

Before Steve could properly formulate a response that was deeper than, “Wow, that definitely sounds like a problem,” the elevator doors slid open.  Natasha strode into the room, carrying files and wearing her usual stony expression.

“You don’t need to worry, Parker,” she said calmly, handing the files over to Steve. “We’ve dealt with situations like this before. Tony’s had his fair share of stalkers, and everyone wants a piece of Captain America to themselves.” She smirked at the soldier, who fought down a blush and tried to remain serious. In the other room, they heard Clint guffaw.

“How do you even know?” Peter asked her blankly. “I literally just told Cap.”

“There are cameras all over this room. I’ve told you this before.”

“What? You’re totally lying. You’ve never told me that before. What else have you ‘told me’ that I don’t remember?” He could have sworn he saw amusement in her eyes, but it was gone in a second.

“We can talk about that later,” she changed the subject. “We need to deal with this problem of yours.”

“It’s _embarrassing_ ,” he said, whining pathetically. “God damn it, I’m _Spider-Man._ I’m not supposed to have stalkers.”

She shrugged listlessly. “Happens to the best of us.” She took a seat across from him, next to Steve. “SHIELD will help with this. A bodyguard will be assigned to you, who will stay by you until whoever’s following you is stopped.”

Peter immediately started to protest. “Okay, that’s a bit excessive,” he said. “I just wanted to, like, have cameras set up in my apartment--because you guys _obviously_ have an abundance of cameras--and the stalker to go bye-bye when I find out who it is.”

“Those things will happen, too,” she confirmed, unfazed by Peter’s whining. “But you’ll still have a bodyguard. As an Avenger, if you were compromised, it would compromise the team and SHIELD.”

“It’s _because_ I’m a superhero that I shouldn’t have a _bodyguard_ ,” he sneered the word out. “Captain America probably didn’t get a bodyguard.”

“You’re right,” Natasha said, “but he was living here at the tower, with four other Avengers and an AI that’s constantly monitoring the building. You’re living by yourself in an apartment that has practically no security. Until the threat has been contained, you’ll have to deal with having a shadow.”

Peter moaned pathetically. He lolled his head to the side to give Steve puppy eyes. “Help me?” he asked hopefully. “I’m totally capable of taking care of myself.”

Steve grimaced, giving Peter a pained look. “I don’t know, Peter,” he sighed. “I think it’s a good idea. If there was an emergency, the team wouldn’t be able to get to you immediately. Having someone stay with you would at least have someone there with you 24/7.”

“But I’m almost positive it’s just some random person who thinks that the nerdy kid in chem might be a good boyfriend. Or something like that. I’m pretty sure I can deal.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” Natasha stressed, pushing her hair behind her ear and rolling her eyes slightly. “Look, it shouldn’t take too long to find this person. A week at the most. SHIELD is only doing this for your safety.”

Peter seemed to deflate into his chair, shoulders slumping. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Whatever. Who’s it gonna be?”

Natasha pushed her chair back and stood up. “Whoever’s not on a mission. You’ll find out by tonight.”

“Can I request not to have—“

“No.”

She left the room, heels clicking as she walked away.

Peter frowned. “If I get Tony or Clint, I _will_ lose my mind,” he told Steve. “They’ll never let me live this down.”

“I’ll try and make sure they don’t end up on this assignment,” Steve said, giving him a sad smile. “But it really is up to who’s free and who’s not, so there’s a chance one of them still could.”

Peter moaned as if in physical pain, sliding down further in his seat.

Steve chuckled. “Don’t worry, son,” he said, closing the files that he’d been reading. “We’ll find whoever this is and stop them, and then you can go back to your normal life.”

“I hope so,” Peter said, running a hand through his messy hair. “I already have enough to deal with. A stalker? Really?”

“Until this all blows over, you’re welcome to stay at the tower,” Steve ventured, finally voicing the thought he’d had throughout the whole interaction. “Then you wouldn’t have to have a bodyguard…”

It wasn’t any secret that Steve and Tony had been urging Peter to move into the Avengers’ tower for months now. It was simply logical, they argued--having as many of the Avengers in one place would make assembling them quicker, and would give them all a sort of protection just from living with other superheroes.

Despite the fact that the nerd in Peter screamed at him to take the offer--because holy _shit,_ he would be living with the Avengers--he held out. He liked having his own space, and it did give him some sense of anonymity that acted as a sort of safety blanket now that SHIELD and the Avengers knew his identity. If he moved in, it would be damn near impossible to hide his identity from the paparazzi.

“Thanks, Cap, but I think I’ll be okay,” Peter said, ducking his head in embarrassment.

“I thought you’d say that,” Steve grinned sheepishly, reaching over and squeezing Peter’s shoulder. “But I figured I might as well try.”

“ _Master Rogers, Nick Fury is on the line for you,”_ JARVIS’ smooth voice broke into their discussion. “ _He says it’s urgent._ ”

“Well, I guess that’s my cue to leave,” Steve said sourly, standing up. He patted Peter’s back. “We’ll make sure everything turns out fine, alright? Don’t worry about it, Peter.”

Peter huffed, also standing up. “Just repeating it a bunch doesn’t make me want to believe you, y’know.”

Steve laughed as he left the room.

The walk back to Peter’s apartment was uneventful, yet the young superhero couldn’t help his paranoia. He constantly checked over his shoulder, even though his senses weren’t going off. People walking passed him gave him odd looks as he turned around every few seconds, fists clenched and ready for a fight.

“You’re losing it, Parker,” he muttered to himself, raking his fingers through his messy hair as he finally reached his apartment building.

Taking the elevator up, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing in the musty scent of the carpet. Peter honestly felt like he was going to have a breakdown at this point. No matter how he’d put up a brave face for the Avengers and Gwen, this truly was getting to him. He hated the idea of someone following him, watching him, potentially knowing who he was. Aunt May, Gwen, all of his friends and family would be put in danger if his identity was discovered and put out into the open.

Peter fished out his apartment key as he treaded down the hallway. At first, nothing seemed out of place--he could hear his neighbor’s TV through the walls, and the cat in the apartment down the hall meowed petulantly for her dinner. He finally reached his door, only a few doors away from the elevator. After a few failed attempts, he managed to fit his key into the lock.

Only to twist it and find that the door was already unlocked.

Peter froze, fist clenching around the doorknob as he debated on whether or not to go in. His senses weren’t warning him of any immediate danger inside his apartment, and there wasn’t any noise that his keen ears could pick up. So he cautiously opened the door, prepared to subdue whoever was there.

He felt around in the dark for the light switch. He flicked it on, the bright light momentarily blinding him.

When Peter’s vision adjusted to the brightness, he wished that he’d just left and called Steve.

The floor of his living room was almost completely covered in pictures, and all of them were of him. Pictures he’d never seen, candids of him talking to Gwen, sitting at the library, waiting for the bus, daydreaming in class, and oh _god_ there were some of him in his own _apartment._ Of him eating breakfast, entertaining friends, _undressing_ \--

The pictures weren’t the worst part of it, though. Draped across the back of his couch, free of any wrinkles and with silver eyes staring lifelessly at him, was Peter’s Spider-man suit. There was a note sitting on the coffee table, the paper folded so it would stand up. Peter had to lean closer and squint to read the neat handwriting.

_Why did you talk to them?_

Without waiting any longer, Peter slammed the door closed, locked it, and headed back to the elevator. His shaking hand pulled out his phone, barely managing to call Gwen’s number.

He spoke before she could even greet him. “They broke into my apartment.”

“ _Are you okay, Peter_?” she asked urgently. “ _Were you there?_ ”

“No, I-I just opened the door and there was like a hundred pictures on the floor, all of me--I think that there was a couple missing from the wall, but I didn’t look closely. But _shit,_ Gwen, my suit was in the middle of the room. They know who I am.”

She cursed loudly. “ _Okay, where are you now?_ ”

“Going to your apartment. Can I stay there for a couple of days?”

“ _Well, considering I was about to tell you to do just that--_ ” Gwen was interrupted by the loud flight attendant over the intercom, announcing that a flight was now boarding. “ _Crap, Peter, my flight’s boarding. Look, I’ll call you as soon as I land, okay? Stay at my place as long as you need to. Whoever ends up being your bodyguard is welcome, too. Please, please be safe._ ”

Their call ended, and Peter called Natasha swiftly. She picked up on the third ring, her voice cool and collected. He relayed what had happened, trying to keep the edge of hysteria out of his voice.

“ _We’ll send an agent out right away_ ,” Natasha assured him. “ _Do you have somewhere to stay_?”

“Yeah--yeah, my friend Gwen’s. It’s at--”

“ _Don’t tell me the address, just text it to me_.”

Peter pulled the phone away from his ear and texted it to her. “Okay, it’s sent.”

“ _Good._ ”

Natasha stayed on the phone with him until Peter reached Gwen’s apartment. He had an extra key to the building due to the number of times he visited her, and when he was assured that he was alone in the apartment, he sighed heavily and thanked the spy.

“ _I’ll come by tomorrow if I can_ ,” Natasha said as Peter flopped down on the couch. “ _Steve might, too. I’ll keep Stark out of your hair until this blows over_.”

Natasha hung up, and Peter was left in the deathly quiet apartment.

He only gave a fleeting thought about the electricity bill before flicking on all the lights in the living room and setting the radio onto a monotonous, droning talk show. He peered out the window, searching for anyone that looked suspicious in the streets below. There was no one, though, and he closed the curtains, making sure to do the same with the other curtains in the apartment.

The noise of the radio and the privacy made him feel minutely better, and he went into the spare bedroom that was unofficially his. He switched into the pajamas that he always kept in the room, and went to go make coffee and do homework.

The doorbell ringing startled him out of the trance of schoolwork. Peter fumbled out of the chair and hesitated before opening the door.

Out of all the people Peter was expecting to see, Deadpool most certainly was not one of them.

The mercenary was wearing his trademark red suit, with his guns at his sides and swords across his back. There were two large duffel bags slung over his shoulder, one emblazoned with the SHEILD logo. The large grin he wore scrunched up the sides of his mask.

"Hey, Spidey baby!" Wade cheerily greeted him.

"Oh, no," Peter moaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Wade, why are you here?"

"To be your bodyguard, obviously!" He pushed passed a stunned Peter to enter the apartment, and whistled through his teeth. "Wow, Blondie's got a nice place here."

Peter closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly to regain his sanity. _Just roll with it._ “Since when do you work for SHIELD?”

“We’re in an on-again, off-again relationship,” Wade chirped, practically throwing his bag onto the kitchen table. Peter winced at the clanking sound the motion produced. “I do some contract-y, under the table stuff for them a lot. Well, practically everything SHIELD does is under the table, but that’s besides the point. What the point _is,_ is that I’m your new bodyguard! Yay!” He waved his hands excitedly, still grinning under his mask.

Peter gave Wade an unimpressed stare. “Whatever.” He went into the closet and pulled out two spare blankets and a pillow. “I'm in the guest room, so you'll have to sleep on the couch until I get the inflatable mattress from storage."

"Are you sure I shouldn't be sleeping in your room?"

Peter fumbled with the blankets, fighting back the fluttering feeling he got in his stomach at Wade's joking eyebrow waggle.

"I'm positive," Peter said dryly, throwing the blankets on the couch. "You can put your stuff in the closet over there."

Wade did as directed with one of the bags, leaving the SHIELD one on the table. Humming to himself, he unzipped the bag and started setting out small pieces of technology neatly on the table.

Peter shifted uncomfortably as Wade continued laying things out. "So, uh," Peter said, clearing his throat. "How's this going to work?"

“Well, _these_ ,” Wade said, picking up some of the small cameras and waving them, “are going to go in practically every nook and cranny of this place. Hope Blondie doesn’t mind. Where is she, by the way?”

“Chicago, for a conference on genetic research.”

Wade pulled a face. “Ew. That sounds gross.”

Peter leaned against the counter, giving him a halfhearted sneer. He didn’t bother arguing the finer points of science, though, because Wade was now climbing onto the counters and hiding the small cameras on top of the cupboards. “How long’s she gonna be gone?”

“Until Monday night.”

“And she knows what’s going on, right? You didn’t “forget” to tell her, like with SHIELD?”

Was that bitterness Peter detected in Wade’s voice? He couldn’t tell for sure, and the mercenary seemed determined not to let him know as he continued installing the small cameras.

“I didn’t _forget_ to tell SHIELD anything,” Peter said in exasperation. “I didn’t think I needed to tell them everything that happened in my life.”

“Yeah, you just waited until things got out of control before bringing them up,” Wade threw back, climbing off the counter. “Hey, can I have some of that coffee? It smells divine.”

“If you keep vaguely insulting me, then no, you can’t.”

Wade rolled up the bottom of his mask and pouted. He ignored Peter and searched the kitchen for a coffee mug.

There were a few moments of silence as Wade poured his coffee and added spoonful after spoonful of sugar. Peter shifted from one foot to another. “So, uh,” Peter cleared his throat. “Now what? What's the plan for the next few days?”

Wade made Peter wait as he took the first sip of his drink, smacking his lips in approval. "I’ll follow you around, make sure you stay safe, get you home at a reasonable time, kick the ass of anyone who gets within a 3-foot radius of you, yadda, yadda, yadda,” Wade supplied casually, flapping a hand. “You'll go to class and stuff, but I’ll come with you.”

Peter grimaced, already imagining the disasters that could come from having Wade around while he was in the lab, working with dangerous chemicals. He made a mental note to reschedule his labs for next week. He’d no doubt have to deal with some disgruntled professors, but with some ass kissing, he should eventually get back into their good graces.

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Peter said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know, right? It’ll be just like us constantly hanging out, except I’ll have to violently maim or murder anyone who comes near you,” Wade said enthusiastically.

“Please don’t murder anyone near me.”

The smirk Wade wore gave him no kind of comfort.

“So, whatcha wanna do?” Wade abruptly said, jumping over the back of the couch and landing lying down. “You got any good video games? Or movies? Let’s watch a shitty Christmas movie. Who cares if it’s not Christmas yet?”

“If you can find a movie on TV or Netflix, you’re welcome to put it on,” Peter said, going back to the kitchen table to do his homework. He moved the now empty SHIELD bag to the floor.

"Wh--what are you doing over there? Don't you wanna come and watch with me?" Wade asked, sounding scandalized.

"I have homework to do," Peter said, absently highlighting part of his textbook. “I’ll come watch when I’m done.”

“ _Petey_ ,” Wade whined, head flopping back so he could look at the other man upside down. “C’mon, you nerd. You can take a break. Horror movies are only fun when you’re watching them with other people.”

Peter pursed his lips. “No, I really should get this done--”

“Peeeteeey.”

Peter glanced down at his unfinished notes. He _could_ take a break, he figured--he had all of Friday and the weekend to finish it. He really wanted to get it done, though, so he could get it out of the way and focus on other things.

But, if Wade was determined to get him to watch a movie (which he was), then Peter wouldn’t be doing any studying.

He decided to compromise. Peter picked up his textbook and notebook and went over to the living room, curling up in the chair next to the couch.

“What’re you doing?” Wade frowned at him.

“Multitasking,” Peter shrugged, scribbling down a quick note.

Wade gagged and finally settled on a movie, knowing that there was no way that Peter was going to last long studying. Peter gave him a glare before settling back into his textbook.

Sure enough, when the movie started, Wade started chattering on, critiquing the actors and the plot and making wild predictions on what would happen next. Peter was physically unable to stop himself from arguing with the mercenary and making his own predictions. Only twenty minutes into the movie, Peter had unconsciously shoved his textbook onto the coffee table so all of his attention was focused on the movie.

By the time the credits rolled around, Wade and Peter were in a heated debate that required them to watch the sequel in order to prove their respective points. Peter moved to the couch so he could get a better view, kicking Wade’s legs away so he could have room. Wade did so with only a small complaint.

Nearing the end of the movie, Peter eagerly turned to the side to rub his accurate predictions in Wade's face, only to find him fast asleep, starting to snore.

“What a great bodyguard,” Peter muttered under his breath. "Completely dead to the world." He couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across his face, though, as he turned off the TV.

He grabbed the blanket off the arm of the couch and chucked it over Wade’s sleeping form. Wade snorted in his sleep, cocooning himself in the soft fabric before settling back.

Unable to get rid of his dopey grin, Peter went to his room.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA LOOK WHO'S ACTUALLY UPDATING HER FIC?
> 
> No but seriously, I can't believe this took so long and I"m so so sorry. I had the most ridiculous case of writer's block, and I was in such a rut that I couldn't force myself to write.
> 
> But I'm back now! I have a lot of inspiration, and I have the next part of the already planned out, so (fingers crossed) it'll come around some time next week.

Wade totally called in all of his SHIELD contacts when he saw Spider-Man’s name pop up on the mission brief.

The mercenary would openly admit that he’d been keeping tabs on him. He constantly got alerts on his phone of Spider-man sightings (it was amazing the apps these people came up with—alerts that would tell him every time someone saw a superhero, or there was a news article about the webslinging hero? Count Wade in), and when he could, he tried to swing by the superhero's neighborhood to see if he needed any help.

The past few weeks, though, he’d been on an assignment in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere (just a few miles past Who-Knows-Where, Russia) and didn’t have enough Wi-Fi to continually internet-watch his favorite superhero. He couldn’t help but feel twitchy during this time, constantly reaching for his phone only to see the “No Signal” flashing in the corner of the screen.

And when he _did_ finally finish that horrid mission and had some blessed Internet connection on his phone, Wade had been disappointed to see that there was an extreme lack of Spider-man sightings while he’d been away. It seemed like the other masked man was taking a break from superhero-ing, or at least putting it on the back burner, and the reports were sparse. He’d shrugged it off and focused on finishing up a half-assed write-up of the mission for SHIELD before heading home.

After being back in his apartment for only a few hours, Wade found himself deviating from his norm, scrolling through the list of new missions that he wasn’t supposed to be able to see, missions that were only for senior SHIELD agents and the Avengers. He usually waited a week or two after a SHIELD mission before even thinking about looking for another, giving himself some time to recuperate mentally (well, as much as he could recuperate) and enjoy doing whatever he wanted.

“Holy shit,” Wade had gaped at the tablet screen. “Oh my _God_.” It was like something sent to him by the powers above themselves. A mission involving being a bodyguard to none other than _Spider-man_.

He’d fallen off the bed, still chanting, “Oh my God, _oh my God_ —“ as he searched for his phone. Immediately he’d dialed up Agent Coulson’s number, not even letting the agent get a word in before he was begging for the case.

It had taken all of his pleading, simpering, and bartering to get Agent Coulson to agree (albeit very reluctantly) to consider him for the mission, even though it was something that Wade shouldn’t even remotely know about.

“Why are you so eager to have this assignment?” the agent had asked warily. “You never take missions from us back to back.”

_Because I’m totally in love with this guy? Don’t say that, it’s too weird._  “Because I’m totally in love with this guy.” _Fuck._

Wade argued loudly and desperately every time Agent Coulson tried to tell him that he wasn’t going to be put on the mission. With every passing moment, the senior agent grew more and more agitated and his will getting weaker and weaker.

They both stopped talking at the same time, and Agent Coulson let out a sad sigh that sounded like a victory to Wade.

“Report to the Helicarrier in two hours for a quick briefing, and we’ll decide if you’re on. Don’t start packing yet or anything, it’s still a very big maybe that you’ll be assigned. The Avengers will be put ahead of you in consideration for guarding Mr. Parker.” He hung up before he could regret choosing Wade any more.

Mr. Parker, oh, it made Wade weak in the knees to hear Spider-man referred to as that. It was so formal and almost ridiculous but the ridiculousness was something that Wade couldn’t get enough of. _Mr. Parker._ Having the chatterbox teenager referred to as that was too adorable.

But wait. Agent Coulson had said that he hadn't officially gotten the job yet. There was still a chance some knucklehead would get it before him, and he'd be forced to move around at the lost opportunity.

Scrolling through his contacts, he stopped at the emoji of an arrow stuck in a target. After waiting a few moments, a very disgruntled and wary voice answered.

"Wilson, I have no clue how you got this number, but you better delete it."

"Shush, my stunning spy skills will never be revealed to you, and we have more important matters at hand. I want to be on the Spider-man mission."

There was silence on the other end. "Spider-man mission?” he asked slowly.

“For God’s sake, man, don’t you ever check your inbox?! The _Spider-man mission_!”

“So I haven’t checked my email in a couple days, I’ve been busy,” Clint said defensively. “Most missions are just assigned to me.” There was a shuffling, and then the sound of keyboard keys clacking. “Okay, how do you even know about this mission? It’s top secret.”

“Didn’t I _just_ tell you I'd never give up my super spy secret skills? Read the brief.”

The sigh Clint let out was long suffering. “Fine. Whatever.” Another moment of silence followed as Clint read through the mission. Clint let out a guffaw of laughter. “Oh, it’s _that_ mission.”

“ _That_ mission? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t think that of all missions, this would be the one you bring up,” Clint snickered. “Jeez. So what am I supposed to do about this, again?”

“Get me in on it.”

“Yeah, Wade, that is _never_ going to happen.”

Wade let out a loud whine. “Clint, _please_. I need you to vouch for me.”

“And how, exactly? ‘’Ey yo, Coulson, let this loudmouth wild card take care of this really sensitive mission that involves a bunch of secrecy and the safety of an Avenger.’”

“Yeah! That sounds great!”

“Coulson would put me through a psych eval before ever considering that.”

“He already said that he would consider me, I just need support—“

“He did _what_?”

”Buddy. Pal. Stop interrupting me here. This is real important.”

“What sort of life-ruining blackmail material do you have on Coulson that would make him consider you?” Clint said, sounding almost in awe.

“ _Clint._ I’ll tell you if you do what I’m asking. And I promise I won’t ever break into your house ever again. And I won’t bug you for a month.”

Clint let out a load groan. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll vouch for you and stuff.”

“Oh my gosh, buddy, you won’t _regret_ it-- Clint? Did you hang up on me?”

Wade shrugged and started dialing the number of another SHIELD agent. After a few more calls and pleading words, he was feeling highly confident on his status as Spider-man’s new bodyguard.

Wade couldn’t stop humming as he packed his bag, grabbing only the necessary things and his favorite (and most deadly) weapons for the trip. Coulson had warned him not to start packing yet, but as _if_ he was going to wait. He made sure that he only chose his cleanest suits and best surveillance equipment before leaving his apartment through the window, jumping onto the roof of the neighboring building.

The walk to SHIELD’s HQ was pleasant and normal. A few people ran for cover when they saw Wade, but the majority just gave him a wide berth and hurried on their way. When he’d finally reached the building, the receptionist had watched him warily, her hand straying to the gun at her hip as she told him which floor he wanted.

He was sent to a sub basement, and was shuffled into what looked like an interrogation room. Inside the room were Agent Hill and Hawkeye, who were hunched over a tablet and talking quietly to each other.

At the sight of him, Agent Hill’s eyes tightened at the corners and her mouth pursed. She turned to Hawkeye, who only wore a shiteating grin.

Sighing, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Fine, just...sit down there,” she motioned to one of the empty seats at the table. “I’ll get to you in a second, but I’ll tell you now, you’re not gonna get this."

She left the room with Clint, muttering angrily under her breath. Clint gave the mercenary an awkward thumbs up behind her back before the door closed, which managed to soothe some of the anxiety building in his chest.

Wade took a few deep breaths, throwing himself down into a chair. Of _course_ he had nothing to worry about. Nothing! Clint and Coulson and the few other agents he’d managed to convince would all throw in a good word for him (albeit with more than a few groans and grimaces), and he’d be top pick.

Sure enough, Agent Hill came back in a few moments later, blinking slowly.

"Well, it seems that you _will_ be on the case," she said with forced calm. "All of our other agents aren't available for long-term missions."

He only managed to rush a few steps close to her for a hug before her gun was drawn and pointed between his eyes.

"Okay, okay, you don't like victory hugs," he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll remember that. Sorry."

Agent Hill reluctantly holstered her gun, and gave him directions to a new room. He practically skipped away, and he could vaguely hear another pained sigh from the agent.

***

The briefing by Black Widow, and that certainly put the fear of God back into Wade. He already knew that this was a serious job, but having the redheaded assassin explain things in her harsh way and seeing the creepy notes sent to his Spidey made his blood boil and really hit home the point that this wasn’t just going to be time to get to know his favorite superhero.

Black Widow had made it very clear from the start that she didn’t approve of Wade being assigned to the job. When she had finished giving him the necessary information and he was leaving the conference room, Natasha had abruptly shoved him against the wall and pulled a gun out of thin air. She pressed it under his chin, piercing eyes boring into his own.

“I don’t know why Coulson or Fury thought you would be good for this,” she hissed, “and I don’t like it. Don’t think because you have their seal of approval I’m just going to let you screw this up and get Peter killed.”

“Yes, ma’am, I completely understand,” he babbled. “I’ll bust my own balls so you don’t have to bust them if I screw up.”

She hadn’t appreciated his humor, and proceeded to viciously lay into him for the next few hours about the mission. When she finally dismissed him, Wade scampered away with his tail in between his legs, the fear and awe he felt for Black Widow now deeply embedded in his brain. A few agents he passed gave him sneers, but otherwise no one talked to him until he was at the elevator.

***

So maybe his meeting with Peter hadn’t been the warmest. Wade couldn’t help the irrational sense of disappointment at that—he knew that Petey wouldn’t be excited to see someone he hardly ever interacted with and knew to be a notorious killer. It still managed to leave a sour taste in the back of his throat, but he tried to play it off as nothing big.

They had quickly warmed up to each other, though, and Wade didn’t think he’d had a more relaxing night than when they had watched movies together. It was refreshing to find someone who was willing to put up with his nonstop babbling and overanalyzation of movies, and even willing to respond with their own theories and guesses.

Wade’s fears dissipated, and he allowed himself to be optimistic for the first time in a long time.

***

When Wade woke up, it was to the smell of coffee and toast. He groggily pushed himself up, wiping away a trail of drool off his cheek and twirling his mask around so he could see.

“Morning,” Peter called from the kitchen, swallowing a bite of his toast.

“Morning,” Wade yawned in response, standing up and stretching. “God, how are you functioning? It’s not even…” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “ _Nine._ Why are you up so early? Why did you get me up so early? How could you do this to me?”

Peter snorted, taking his plate to the sink. “I have class in an hour,” he said. “I figured you might want some time to get ready.”

“You thought _so wrong_. I want every minute of precious sleep I can get.”

“Well, it’s too late now.” Peter refilled his coffee cup. “Flash is coming over so we can walk to class together. Can you let him in? I need to take a shower.”

“Who’s Flash?” Wade asked, popping toast into the toaster. _Please don’t say your boyfriend. Who would date a guy named Flash?_

“Gwen’s boyfriend,” Peter replied, already leaving the room. _Oh. Oops. I take that last thought back._ “Blond hair, athletic, bit of a doofus. You’ll know who he is.”

“Can I get a bit more of a description?” Wade called after him. “I don’t want to confuse him as an intruder and accidentally kill him.” That made Peter freeze, and he quickly came back into the kitchen.

Peter pointed to one of the pictures on the wall. “That’s him,” he said. “Please don’t murder him. It’d make things ten times worse.” He went back to the bathroom, muttering under his breath.

It turned out that Wade didn’t have to let Flash in. The guy had his own key, and entered without a thought, finishing off the last dregs of his coffee.

“Yo, Peter, you here?” he called, kicking the door closed behind him.

Flash froze when he saw Wade sitting on the couch, mask rolled up so he could drink his coffee. There was a moment of tense before the Flash recoiled, eyes flashing in hostility.

“What the _fuck_ \--”

Instinct kicked in, and he tackled the man to the floor. The air whooshed out of Flash’s lungs, and he landed harshly on his side before being shoved over onto his stomach. Wade yanked his arm sharply up his back, holding a knife to his throat.

“Who are you?” he barked out. “Who’re you working for?”

“Who am I--you’re in my _girlfriend’s house_!” Flash shrieked. “PETER! Peter, where are you?!”

“Oh, if you think that you can get Peter that easily, then you have another thing coming--”

“Wade!” Peter squawked, throwing open the bathroom door. He charged out, soaking wet and only wearing a towel around his waist. “What are you doing? Get off him!”

Wade stared up at him in confusion, not moving off of Flash. “Why?” he asked in disbelief. “This dude literally just broke into the apartment.  You don’t just let robbers on their merry way!”

“It’s _Flash_ ,” Peter said from behind his teeth, yanking Wade up by his arm.

“Oh.” Well, that was embarrassing.

Wade leaned down and picked the boy by his arm, dragging him into a standing position. “Sorry, about that, pal,” he said nervously, dusting off some imaginary dirt from Flash’s shirt. “You just took me by surprise a bit.”

Flash pulled away, eyes blazing with anger. “What the _fuck_ , Peter!” he yelled, whipping around to the exasperated teenager. “Who is this? Why is he _here_?”

Peter massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s...kind of difficult to explain,” he sighed.

“ _Try_ ,” Flash snarled. “Does Gwen know about this? That there’s a random psychopath staying in her apartment?”

“Yeah, she does,” Peter assured him, waving his arms. “And Wade’s not…okay, he might have some issues, but he’s not _dangerous_ , necessarily—“

“I’m his bodyguard,” Wade butted in. He thrust out his hand, ignoring the violent flinch from Flash and the way his hands came up to protect his face. “Wade Wilson. Mercenary, kind-of SHIELD agent, AKA Deadpool. And you’re Flash, Peter’s not boyfriend.”

“Mercenary?” Flash spluttered, eyes bulging. “Wait-- _Deadpool_?”

“Oh, so you know who I am! Great!”

“Peter, _what_ is going on?”

Peter groaned loudly. “I’ll tell you in a bit,” he said. Before Flash could complain, he dryly added, “I need to get this soap out of my hair and put on some pants. You can wait two seconds.”

_Nah, he doesn’t need pants_ , Wade thought dreamily to himself, already distracted from the glares Flash was sending his way.

The next few minutes were passed with Wade and Flash sitting uncomfortably in the living room. Well, Flash was uncomfortable--Wade was too busy munching away on a bag of chips and narrating what was on TV to bother to feel uncomfortable.

Peter eventually came back out (wearing pants, Wade was sad to see), a stack of papers in his arms.

“Good to see that you two haven’t ripped each other’s throats out while I was gone,” he joked sourly, stuffing the papers into his bag. “You guys ready?”

"I'll be ready when you give me an explanation, Parker," Flash said with false enthusiasm, his grin a hair's breadth away from manic.

"I'll give it to you in a second, just wait--" He paused and his eyes narrowed when he took a closer look at Wade. “You can’t wear that to school, Wade.”

Wade glanced down at his suit. “What? Why? This is what I always wear.”

“I can’t bring someone who’s obviously Deadpool to class,” Peter interrupted loudly. “Go change into something else. Something inconspicuous. Something a regular student would wear.”

Wade scowled at him, but didn’t bother arguing as he skulked out of the room with his bag slung over his shoulder. He went into the bathroom to change into some of the civilian clothes he’d brought along as an afterthought.

Through the door, Wade heard Peter give Flash the vaguest of explanations. He quite obviously didn’t want to rope another person into this, and Wade got the impression that the jock would think that he could help and designate himself as another bodyguard. He knew that the other man would have the best intentions at heart, but if this stalker was more than a regular person (which was almost surely the case), then he’d just be getting in the way.

“I don’t see how a stalker gets you a SHIELD agent as a bodyguard, though,” Flash said as Wade reentered the room, his brow furrowing.

“Well, being a--” Wade started to say, but was swiftly and loudly cut off by Peter.

“ _Because I’m Tony Stark’s assistant_ , SHIELD took an interest in it for security reasons,” Peter explained, elbowing Wade harshly in the side. “They don’t want me being a liability or end up giving out secrets.” He silently mouthed for Wade to stay quiet.

Flash watched him suspiciously. “Alright,” he said slowly, obviously not believing what Peter was saying. “I...guess that makes sense.”

They walked down the street, and Wade kept his head down, shoulders bunched in an effort to hide his scars from the other pedestrians and subway goers. There were a few wandering looks, but he managed to stay under the radar well enough.

Flash left them after they reached the university, waving goodbye and still shooting warning glances back at Wade. He made a very pointed gesture to tell Peter to keep in touch and call him when he got back to the apartment.

“He seems great,” Wade said cheerily as they entered the lecture hall.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just don’t give him another warm greeting again, okay? Or to Gwen. I’d have to kick your ass.” They went to the seats furthest in the back and settled down, Peter pulling out his laptop and a notebook.

Wade took the seat next to him, propping his feet up on the chair in front. He settled down, watching the other students stroll into the classroom in various stages of exhaustion. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Peter as the guy typed a few words and organized his notes. The mercenary could’ve laughed at how in place the webslinging hero looked in the academic setting, with his thick-rimmed glasses and mountains of notes.

Eventually, the professor came in and the lesson began.

Within ten minutes, Wade was so bored he thought he was going to lose it.

He’d tried to pay attention and be on his best behavior at first, trying to follow the in depth biology lesson. But then he’d started jiggling his knee uncontrollably, shaking the desk that Peter was using and drawing a warning look. And then he’d started fiddling with pens and pencils and the sticky gum that was under his shoe. Which was quick to lead to ripping up tiny pieces of paper to roll into a ball and toss at other student’s heads.

Peter’s hand shot out and caught one of the paper cannonballs in the air before it could fly over the seat in front of them. Giving a warning glare, Peter mouthed for Wade to stop it. The mercenary gave him a winning smile even as he reached for another torn piece of paper.

And so the lesson quickly devolved into Peter lunging and grabbing every paper ball that Wade launched, keeping his classmates safe from a barrage of miniature cannonballs. He was fighting back laughter and murderous rage with every paper ball, and seemed a little disappointed when Wade ran out of paper. Sighing in defeat, Wade nodded in deference and sunk back into his chair to sulk.

The end of class couldn’t come soon enough, and when the professor finally dismissed them, Wade hopped up excitedly, already yapping to Peter about what they could get for lunch or what they should do. Peter started listing off nearby restaurants they could go to and the laundry list of errands he had to run as he packed up his bag and started leaving.

A girl was waiting at the door for Peter when he and Wade reached the exit, wearing an odd expression on her face. Wade tilted his head slightly to the side to hide his scars as they walked up to her.

“Hey,” she greeted Peter, giving him a smile. She held out a folded piece of paper. “Your friend didn’t get a chance to give this to you before class started, and asked me to give it to you.”

Peter frowned, taking the paper. “Who was it?” he asked suspiciously.

The girl shrugged. “Dunno. I haven’t seen him before. He was pretty big, with sort of strawberry blond hair.” Her brow furrowed when she saw Peter’s face pale considerably. “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong,” Peter rushed to say, folding the note up again, giving her a slightly manic grin. He blindly reached behind him and grabbed Wade’s hand. “I just remembered that, uh, I left a window open and my cat might get out. Bye!”

Peter rushed down the hallways, ignoring the strange looks it got him, and dragged Wade into one of the bathrooms. Luckily, it was empty, and the mercenary locked the door behind them.

Peter turned around, mouth a thin line and still pale. He thrust out the paper to Wade, who took it and quickly unfolded it.

Written in blocky, nondescript letters was a simple, yet bone-chilling question: ‘Why are you trying to hide from me, Spider-man?’

“He’s getting bolder,” Peter said, voice trembling. “He gave that to some random chick, and still called me Spider-man. She could’ve totally just opened it and read it before giving the letter to me.”

“What a complete _dick_ move,” Wade said, aghast that someone would actually try to out a superhero like that. He absently noticed that someone was trying to open the door, pulling helplessly at the handle. That wasn’t particularly important--if they needed to pee so bad, they could find another bathroom.

Peter laughed shrilly. “Yeah, Wade, it _is_ a bit of a dick move.” He shuddered, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “God, what am I going to do?”

“Well, it’ll be alright, no matter what…” Wade ventured, trying to figure out which way was the best to approach the situation.

Apparently that wasn’t the thing to say.

Peter took his hands away from his head, staring in disbelief at Wade. “He’s going to tell the whole school,” Peter said, voice going shrill. “He’s taunting me. That’s why he gave Sandy that letter. He’s showing me that he’s not afraid to talk to people and put my identity in jeopardy--”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down there, cowboy--”

“Slow down? You want me to _slow down_? This shady son of a bitch is going to completely ruin my life!”

Wade gasped. “Petey, you said a _swear_!”

“Do you know how hard it is to balance school, being ‘normal,’ _and_ being a superhero?” Peter ranted, ignoring Wade’s comment. “One slip-up and bang. Everyone will know about my _extracurricular_ activities. I’m going to have to leave school and who I am and move into the Tower, and completely cut off contact with all of my friends.”

“Then we’ll just have to kick his ass before that happens,” Wade said matter-of-factly, grabbing Peter’s arm and forcing him to stop pacing. “This guy doesn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Australia. Think about it: you have a mercenary as a bodyguard--a damn fine one, if I do say so myself--with SHIELD ready to bag whoever this piece of cat poo is, _and_ the Avengers to hack and interrogate their way to the truth. Now take some deep breaths, okay?”

Peter forced himself to breathe steadily, mimicking the exaggerated breaths Wade was taking. After a few moments, he was able calm himself, and Wade stopped it. The mercenary smiled at him affectionately.

“I won’t let that happen to you,” he said softly, hands trailing down Peter’s arms and resting on his wrists. “Your secret identity is safe with me.”

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise, but he found himself squeezing Wade’s hands in return. His response seemed to shock Wade, and the mercenary quickly pulled away, scarred cheeks flushing as he cleared his throat.

“Gimme a few seconds, I’ll call up SHIELD and get them to do their voodoo,” Wade said, pulling out his phone. “And no complaining.”

“We don’t need to call them--” Peter was quick to interject, panicking at the actual prospect of talking to SHIELD.

“Hush your face. I already said no complaining.”

“We’ll call them if it’s something bigger--”

“That’s how you got into this situation in the first place, Petey.”

“Wait--”

“Nope. I’m calling now. So many people would kick my ass if I didn’t, and it’s important to document everything.”

Peter grimaced, biting his lip, but didn’t try to stop Wade as he dialed Steve’s number. He was surprised and a bit terrified when it was Natasha who answered, but managed to keep his cool long enough to get out what had happened.

Wade hung up the phone. “Okay, Miss Black Widow wants us to stop by HQ and drop this off, and then we’re going to go home and order some Chinese food. She said that SHIELD’s going to look through the campus’ security footage to see if they can find anything.”

Peter nodded quickly, still not looking convinced that the situation was under control. “Let’s go,” he said shortly.

When he opened the door, there was a startled looking student waiting outside, and a disgruntled janitor approaching with a key ring in his hand. Peter grimaced and grabbed Wade’s arm, briskly walking away and ignoring the angry shouts for them to come back.

They left the campus and headed towards Stark Tower, much more alert and uneasy than before.

“So, do you actually have a cat, or…?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me and reading. I changed my tumblr URL, but if you have any questions/comments/prompts, message me at: continuitygains.tumblr.com
> 
> I love you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments/kudos much appreciated!  
> If you have any prompts/want to chat, send me an ask: darkmoonmaiden.tumblr.com


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